


Whatever that makes us

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: Wincest "First" prompts [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Morning After, Playthings, Wincest - Freeform, after sex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1832062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "first sex after? Wincest <3"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever that makes us

**Author's Note:**

> I took this as _after_ their first sex, cause pretty much every single one of my E-rated fics is first time brother sex lol so this was interesting. :) BTW it takes place during Playthings in case that wasn’t clear :p

Dean was lucky he fell asleep right after the first time he had sex with his brother. He woke up at around five AM in the (haunted) hotel they were staying at undercover, nauseous and untired, his mind shouting out curse after curse at himself. He breathed in Sam’s scent, the hair at his neck and his sweat. No longer able to keep up with his ear-splitting thoughts, he slowly peeled himself from the bed, moving slowly so as to not wake his naked, sleeping brother. Sam was on his side, golden patch of light creeping in between the curtains to rest on his bare shoulder, rising and falling ever so slightly. Dean paused only briefly, eyes gazing over the way the sheets draped down over the shadowy groove of his spine, creamy skin covered up by flowing ripples of white. He leaned over, eyes traveling up Sam’s back—the same back he had dragged his teeth against the night previous, carefully as he listened to his brother’s panting. They weren’t verbal while it was happening other than Sam’s occasional _keep going_ , so Dean made sure he was extra gentle with Sammy—or _tried_ to be. For one, Sam’s arm was still broken from their little zombie encounter. But there was also a chance that Sam had never actually been _fucked_ like that before, (Dean was fairly certain; unless there were some unspoken memories from Sam’s years at Stanford that he didn’t know about), so even though it was all happening at a sickeningly quick pace, Dean handled Sam’s body carefully and hesitantly. Sam’s body language, however, was more urgent, screaming for attention and seeping desperation. Dean thought the alcohol Sam had consumed before hand was probably playing a part. But once Sam whispered that he wanted this, brought Dean’s face in and _kissed_ him, no turning back, Dean couldn’t stop.

Now, watching over his dormant brother, Dean couldn’t help but hover over Sam’s shoulder and place a gentle kiss on his warm skin before leaving. He couldn’t look at him anymore. He was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but looking at him only made him want him more. It was like looking at the sun. You know you aren’t supposed to but you want to so bad. He headed down to the lobby to get something to eat.

When Dean came back up, Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, getting some pants on. Dean actually halted in the doorway, considering going back out like he hadn’t seen and _touched_ every part of Sam the night before.

"Sorry," Dean said before heading into the bathroom in their room even though he didn’t have to go. After he washed up, he came back out and Sam was clothed and running a hand through his tousled, damp hair. He must’ve showered.

Sam drew in a breath, looking awkwardly at the floor. “Dean—”

"No, we don’t have to talk about this."

Sam looked up then, big puppy dog eyes drawn up and glazed over. “Okay.”

"Yeah," Dean started casually. "It’s just something that happened. We both were a little out of it. Nothing that can’t be swept under the rug, right?"

Sam nodded, hesitantly at first. “Right.” He seemed a little relieved that Dean was taking this all so well.

"Yeah. Good. So… The case?" Dean raised an eager brow.

"The case," Sam agreed. "Just… I…" Sam sat back down on the edge of the bed, facing Dean.

"What?" Dean questioned.

"…Did you enjoy it?" Sam’s voice was barely audible.

Dean’s heart thumped. “Did I—what kind of question is that?”

Sam shrugged. “A pretty simple one.”

Dean ran a sweaty palm through his hair, then sat on the bed next to Sam. For several long minutes, neither of them said anything. They didn’t look at each other, either.

"Would it make me sick if I said I did?"

Sam looked over at Dean, jaw clenched shut. Dean stared ahead. Sam’s eyes flickered down just as Dean turned to skim his over Sam’s lips.

Sam swallowed, then spoke softly. “If it does then I am, too.”

Dean smirked and felt like laughing even though none of this was at all funny. He reached over and tousled Sam’s hair and that snapped something within Sam and he cracked a smile, batting Dean away. Dean pushed him down and hovered over him on the bed, this time watching Sam’s bright eyes stare enthusiastically up at him in the light of day, and pressed their lips together once more.

"Guess were just a couple of sickos then, huh?" Dean breathed.

Sam grinned, shifting under Dean so that he was holding on to his shirt at the waist, his knees separating so their bodies slotted together just right. “Guess so.”


End file.
